She looked over at the two stacks of self-welding braces sitting on the floor next to the door. “What about the braces?"
“They'll buy us more time if we use them at the inner blast door rather than here. After we get them in place, you and I can set up a cross-fire on the tunnel from here in the control room. I think this will buy us much more time than our original plan, but you're the boss. The choice is yours."
“Do as he says,” Johnston blurted out.
Still facing the door, Danielle looked back over her shoulder at him with a sneer. “Will you just shut up and let me think about it for a moment?"
Johnston picked up his Uzi and trained it on her. “You don't tell me when to shut up, bitch. Now get out there, and do as the man says. Besides you made him the boss."
“Stop this fighting!” De Bono screamed as Danielle used her body to conceal that she was drawing her pistol. “She's right about one thing, Merl, you need to shut up.” De Bono said in a firm tone. “Danielle, your only hope is the Turks. The Americans are going to stand there and do nothing. I think you should try and stop them at the inner blast door as your merc suggests."
Even though every instinct in her body screamed for her to keep the door shut, a suggestion from the Secretary General was as good as a direct order and she knew it. With a resigned look, she turned her head to face the door and shouted, “Wait there!"
* * * *
DANIELLE UNLOCKED THE door and pulled it open partway, just enough for her to squeeze through the door. Stepping around to the opening with her pistol at the ready, she immediately saw John-Pierre's smiling face. As her eye glanced downward, she saw him holding a gun on her just in time to see him pull the trigger. She caught the full force of the point blank range impact as John Pierre's hollow-point .40 caliber bullet ripped through her liver in a ball of fire. As the shot echoed off the walls, the impact sent her spinning backwards and sprawling onto the floor. With a pained breath, she lifted her pistol to shoot, when John-Pierre's second shot cut through the center of her throat, shattering her spinal cord in a blinding moment of death.
Watching in Geneva through the webcam on the wall mounted vital signs monitor, De Bono immediately cut his own video feed and the usual health status indicators immediately appeared on the monitor as he and Johnston looked on in horror.
In what seemed like a blur of movement, they watched John-Pierre kick open the door as his eye darted immediately to Johnston's gun hand.
John-Pierre could see Johnston beginning to squeeze the trigger of his Uzi and snap rolled back against the outer wall of the crew quarters. Expecting a hail of .45 caliber bullets to follow him out of the room, all he heard instead was frantic clicking sounds as Johnston tried to fire his Uzi.
In a single swift motion, John Pierre dropped to his knee and facing the interior of the room, trained his pistol on Johnston's face. “Governor, you forgot the safety, and if I see your finger move once again, I'll have to kill you."
Johnston froze as Vigo and Anthony moved into position behind Durand. “Now, moving very slowly,” John Pierre said in a calm, soothing voice, “I want you to put your weapon down on the floor and then stand up with your hands on your head.” Johnston remained paralyzed with fear. “Do you understand me?"
The terrified UNE governor nodded in acknowledgement, then slowly knelt down, and laid the Uzi the floor. “Oh God, please don't kill me,” he begged as he stood up with hands clasped behind his head.
Anthony and Vigo bolted into the room as John-Pierre continued to train his gun on Johnston. Anthony saw Russell lying unconscious in a biostasis chamber, connected to a maze of I.V. tubes and sensor leads. The anger that had been raging inside him exploded. Kicking Johnston's Uzi under the bed, he grabbed the terrified man by the collar. “You filthy bastard!” he screamed as he pummeled Johnston's face, fracturing his skull and shattering his jaw on both sides and then threw the unconscious man to the floor with disgust.
Vigo jumped behind Anthony, holding his arms. “That's enough, Anthony! That's enough!"
As Anthony stood trembling with rage, De Bono's image appeared on the wall monitor as he shouted at them, “I saw that! I saw it all!"
All eyes flew to De Bono's red-faced image on the monitor. “You have been a thorn in my side for too long now,” he spat. “I might have offered you a chance, but not after this.” De Bono leaned forward till his face filled the monitor. “Durand and Jones, you fucking traitors, you're both dead men! As for you, Jarman, I'll personally see to it that you'll spend the rest of your life in an asylum for the criminally insane while I deal with the rest of your friends."
“So, you've finally come out of the shadows, you miserable son-of-a-bitch,” Anthony shot back angrily.
Vigo pushed Anthony aside and glared at De Bono. “You lost this round, De Bono, so be practical. There is no need for any further bloodshed or violence, so why not cut your losses and just walk away. We'll do the same and nobody else will be the wiser for it."
De Bono laughed, “You are pathetic fools with nothing to bargain with and you want me to just let you walk away? Nonsense!"
“I'd think it over if I were you,” Vigo replied firmly.
“There is nothing to think over,” De Bono spat. “You and your traitorous friends are going to feel the pain of real power such as nobody on Earth could ever imagine."
“Let me restate our offer then,” Vigo snarled. He squatted down and wrapping his arms around Johnston's chest picked the unconscious man up from the floor as easily as he would toss a bale of hay. Standing with one arm wrapped around Johnston's body, he let the governor's head fall limply on his shoulder. He then held out his free hand palm up, motioning to John Pierre.
The French-Canadian merc, who had worked enough times with Jones to understand the signal, drew his scalpel-sharp tactical knife and placed it in Vigo's outstretched hand.
Vigo turned the blade straight up towards the ceiling and dug the tip of the hollow-ground knife into the soft tissue of Johnston's lower jaw. “Wake up, you pathetic piece of shit,” he whispered in the man's ear with an ugly growl as he drew blood with the tip of the titanium blade.
Johnston's eyes fluttered as he moaned. As he instinctively tried to straighten his head, the soft tissue of his lower jaw pressed down on the tip of Vigo's blade. The man's eyes searched the room with panic as he began drawing excited breaths.
“We know your boy, here, assassinated Senator Connie Chavez,” Vigo said with a mean, purposeful stare.
“I didn't do it,” Johnston whispered aloud.
“The pen with the gold clip was a dead giveaway,” Vigo whispered back. Johnston began trembling uncontrollably and his breathing became shallow and frantic as beads of sweat began streaming down the sides of his face.
“This is my last offer, De Bono,” Vigo said slowly as Anthony and John Pierre watched with breathless suspense. “It ends here and now and we all walk away. Or, it becomes a blood fight to the finish. What's your answer?"
De Bono's lip quivered as he watched them from the personal safety of his security dome in Geneva. “You are as pathetic as Johnston. I cannot stop you from killing him, and even if you did, he is worthless to me now. Release him and you'll die painlessly. Kill him and you'll spend years begging for death. Either way, you can take your offer to hell for all I'm concerned."
Vigo's eyes glared. “This is for Connie,” he said as he thrust the knife up through Johnston's jaw into his head. Johnston's eyes rolled and his body began to spasm as blood began to flow past his lips. Vigo waited a few moments before twisting the blade sharply causing Johnston's body to go limp in death. He then slowly withdrew the knife allowing Johnston's body to sink to the floor at his feet.
Stepping over Johnston's lifeless body, he took hold of the Spitfire cable and, holding up the bloody blade for De Bono to see, said in a blood curdling dark tone, “You'll be looking into my eyes when I gut you like a fat goose. This I promise you.” De Bono recoiled with wide, alarmed eyes as
Vigo slashed the Spitfire cable in half.
Anthony smiled at Vigo. “Did you really mean that?"
“Ah what the hell,” he grumbled. “Let's get the boy and go. We're outta here."
* * * *
LEBLANC HAD MANAGED to turn all the power systems back on in the silo, including the simple lift elevator that was now rising up to the first level with Ramona kneeling next to Charlie lying unconscious on a stretcher. The elevator came to a jerking halt and she looked up to see a squad of American soldiers surrounding Jeffrey, pointing their rifles at her.
“Put your guns down"; LeBlanc ordered. “These are our people. I told you, the silo is secure.” The young squad leader standing next to him ordered his men to put down their weapons and called for his medics.
“Holy hell, Jeffrey,” Ramona exclaimed. “What's going on?"
“The cavalry has arrived, and the Israelis are on their way to the airport,” he beamed. “How is Charlie?"
“It's a nasty wound, and he's lost a lot of blood, but he'll be OK as long as we can get him to a hospital in time."
“You got it,” the squad leader replied as two medics arrived. The squad leader had them pick up Charlie's stretcher while Ramona followed alongside, holding a bag of synthetic blood above the wounded orderly's chest. “We've got a chopper on the way,” The squad leader said as he pointed towards his Bradley, “I suggest you folks take him inside our M3."
“Thanks sergeant,” she said as they trotted towards the gaping, open hatch of the fighting vehicle.
Jeffrey watched them for moment and then turned his attention back upon the squad leader. “The Turks are about twelve minutes out so we need to get rolling. We have a sick boy down there in a biostasis chamber. We'll need your help getting him out of the silo. And be careful not to disturb anything down there. It's a crime scene now."
“You heard the man,” the squad leader barked. “Sling arms and follow on me,” he ordered as he stepped onto the elevator.
As Jeffrey watched the elevator sink down into the shaft, he heard the familiar sound of a Blackhawk helicopter as it hovered above the main access road beyond the guardhouse. “Ramona,” he shouted as they were beginning to load Charlie's stretcher and pointed in the direction of the helicopter. They paused, waiting for the helicopter to land and then started out towards it at a quick pace.
As soon as the Blackhawk's wheels touched down, General George Hennicker leapt out, followed by a young female officer and the Texas Highway Patrol commander. They met Ramona and the medics by the main gate of the guardhouse as the Texas Highway Patrol commander eyed the dead bodies of the Syrian guards.
“This post is too hot to take your wounded,” Hennicker shouted over the noise. “Can he make it to Fort Sam in San Antonio?"
“He'll make it,” Ramona answered. “I'd like to go with him."
“Of course. You'll fly straight to the hospital, and they've already got a surgical team standing by. I'm also sending Lieutenant Kathy Sullivan, here, along with you. We need to give you new identities, and she'll brief you on the details."
“Thanks, General,” she replied as the medics loaded Charlie onto the Blackhawk.
“We take care of our own,” he grinned. “Now get your ass out of here.” Ramona chuckled and trotted off towards the waiting helicopter.
Hennicker nodded in the direction of the main silo entrance where Jeffrey LeBlanc was waiting beside the elevator shaft. As they walked quickly across the compound, they eyed the bullet holes in the buildings and the stray rounds that had peppered the cockpit of Governor Johnston's Osprey tilt rotor on the landing pad, rendering it useless in the pale predawn light.
Jeffrey watched the Blackhawk lift off from inside the main entrance as Hennicker and his companion entered. “Welcome, General,” he said.
“Well, Mr. LeBlanc, it looks like you've had a busy morning. Let me introduce my friend here, Captain Ben Green of the Texas Highway Patrol."
Jeffrey shook hands with the tall, thick-shouldered police officer. “It's a pleasure to meet you."
Not one for banter, Green cut straight to the point. “So what do we have here, Mr. LeBlanc?"
Jeffrey nodded and pointed a finger up. “You'll find two bodies up there."
“I saw them coming in,” Green confirmed.
LeBlanc pointed at the large portable building that had once served as the living quarters for the Syrians and Euro mercs. “A whole pack of dead bodies over there and only three bodies down in the silo, including UNE Governor Merl Johnston, his personal secretary, Danielle Peters and a Euro merc. In a few moments, we'll be bringing out a young boy. He was kidnapped by Johnston and Secretary General De Bono."
“No doubt they'll claim the boy was in protective custody,” Green replied. “But I've seen enough to declare jurisdiction and to have this place protected as a crime scene.” He unclipped the microphone from his shoulder lapel and held it to his mouth. “Put me through to the Turkish Peacekeepers,” he ordered as he switched on the radio's external speaker.
Hennicker and LeBlanc could hear Green's communication center routing him through, and after a few minutes, they heard Colonel Bazoglu's voice over the din of his lead Osprey, acknowledging the call.
“Colonel Bazoglu, this is Captain Ben Green of the Texas Highway Patrol. I'm here at silo fourteen, and I'm declaring this a crime scene. The UNE no longer has jurisdiction, and we have matters well in hand, so I suggest you return to your base."
“Captain Green,” Bazoglu replied, “Silo fourteen is the sovereign territory of the UNE, and I'm ordering you to withdraw immediately. We will arrive shortly and conduct our own investigation."
“Not so quick, colonel,” Green shot back. “We've got clear evidence of a kidnapping and several murders here. I suggest you read the UNE treaty as ratified by the American Congress, because in these cases, local law enforcement authorities take precedence. This is my jurisdiction now, and I'm ordering you to return to your base."
“We have our orders directly from the Secretary General himself and we're coming in. You can take it up with him if you like.” General Hennicker winked at Green.
“Standby,” Green replied dryly as Hennicker inserted the earpiece of his mobile headset into his ear.
A few moments later, the threat warning lights in Bazoglu's lead Osprey lit up. Sitting in the cockpit just behind his pilots, Bazoglu could see that the radars of three Patriot Missile batteries at Fort Hood had just painted his aircraft and now had a definite lock on them.
“Are you insane?” Bazoglu voice shouted angrily over Green's radio as LeBlanc and Hennicker quietly chuckled.
“No, I'm not,” Green replied in a steely voice. “I have jurisdiction in this matter, and it comes straight from the White House. If you try and enter this airspace, I'll order a missile launch, and if you think I can't, you're welcome to try your luck."
“This is an outrage!” Bazoglu barked back. “We know for a fact that Captain Anthony Jarman is there, and I have a warrant issued by an American judge to detain and transport Jarman to a psychiatric facility for the criminally insane. The man is dangerous, and I have direct orders from the Secretary General to get him."
“Not today, Bazoglu. If you don't like it, send me a nasty letter or something,” Green replied, “but I will shoot your ass out of the air if you don't turn back right now!"
There was a long static filled pause on the radio as the Turkish colonel chewed on the situation. Finally, they heard a terse reply, “Fine, have it your way. Just remember; it's your funeral. Now stand down your missiles. We're returning to base. Bazoglu out."
Green clipped the microphone back on his shoulder lapel and shook his head. “Man, if this Jarman fellow is really here, my ass will be so far out on a limb right now, I hate to think of it."
Hennicker nodded as he put a finger to his earpiece, “They're turning back,” he announced. He elbowed Green in the side. “Don't worry about it, I'm out on the same limb, and if those sons-of-bitches want t
o mix it up with us, they'll have to come through the President, and he is mighty pissed off about what has been happening here."
* * * *
TANYA AND ANTHONY knelt beside Russell's biostasis chamber as Boole and Ann-Marie checked and rechecked the restraints, sensor feeds and IV tubes. “What do you think, doc,” Anthony asked as he looked upon his son with a deeply pained expression, lovingly caressing his son's face.
“So far, I've only had time for a preliminary look at his records. The chamber data cartridge is pretty complete, and it looks like he's had good medical attention, but from what I've seen so far, he's suffered a massive head injury. Frankly, I'm surprised that he's still alive."
Anthony sagged, and Tanya wrapped her arms around him, asking, “Is he well enough to be transported?"
“As well as he can be,” Boole replied putting a hand on Anthony's forearm. “Anthony, we need to seal the chamber."
Anthony nodded; he and Tanya stood up together, watching silently as Ann-Marie lowered the lid of the chamber. As she snapped the locks into place, Boole tapped the control panel on the lid of the chamber to set the filtered, oxygen rich internal environment to a steady temperature.
“Fortunately,” Boole said somberly, “this is one of the best biostasis chambers made, and it can support his body for another seven days without being serviced. Wherever you intend to take him now, you don't have to rush."
* * * *
VIGO AND JOHN-PIERRE had been standing just outside the room. “Say doc, I have some men out here to help carry the chamber. Should I send them in?"
“We're just about ready to go, here, so bring them in,” replied.
As the soldiers filed into the room behind Vigo and John-Pierre, Vigo motioned to Anthony to join him next to the bed. While the soldiers lined up alongside the lightweight titanium chamber, Vigo whispered softly to Anthony. “I just got some news from Jeffrey. He's waiting for you topside with some other folks. Meanwhile, you, John-Pierre and I need to have a private chat here in the control room by ourselves before we go topside. I wouldn't ask if it weren't important."
Godschild Covenant: Return of Nibiru Page 61